A Week In Paradise
by citigirl13
Summary: Alicia takes a holiday to Spain and runs into Will. They agree to try and act normally. But of course, it's Will and Alicia. They can't act normal. Set during the latter half of season 3 after Will has been suspended but before she starts looking at the house. AU.


**These two. THESE TWO. **

**Once again I am re-watching **_**The Good Wife **_**and counting down the days until it comes back (anyone know when exactly?). I have loved Will and Alicia from the beginning. It's the little things, like how they exchange looks or act around each other. I so want this upcoming season to be filled with them, especially because series 4 had a lot of Alicia/Peter moments. NOT that I'm complaining about how the season final was – that was GREAT. **

**Anyway, I'm babbling. Please enjoy the story and let me know what you think! **

**Only a one-shot.**

**DISCLAIMER:**** I do NOT own **_**The Good Wife **_**or any of the characters**

* * *

**A Week In Paradise**

* * *

She had wanted to take the holiday with her kids. She had booked a family room. She had purchased three tickets. She was all set; it was all settled.

Then Jackie _un_settled it all. According to Peter, she had practically had a heart attack when he told her that Alicia and the kids were planning on going to Spain. She was convinced that Alicia was going to kidnap them. Given Jackie's health problems, Peter hadn't wanted to push her. She must have scared him.

The real nail in the coffin though, was the school. Turns out getting your kids out of private school for a week is a whole lot harder than public school. Because of a week of flu that the kids had shared, the school wouldn't allow them any more days off.

"You go though."

"Peter, I couldn't. I have to work-"

"You already got the time off – that's not easy to do with your firm. You've booked it. Might as well enjoy the time you have. Don't worry, I'll look after the kids."

So Alicia traded her three economy seats for one first class seat. In style, she flew to Malaga, Spain, to take some time off.

* * *

The hotel room is gorgeous. The bed is a king-sized, the covers soft to touch, and the first thing Alicia does when she arrives is collapse upon it. For a few minutes she lies there, perfectly relaxed. The television is large, with all the news channels which Alicia quickly switches off. Admittedly there wouldn't be much about Chicago on the World News, but she doesn't want to tempt fate. She's on holiday; she shouldn't surround herself with the problems of home.

Her mistake is looking into the kids' room. She didn't have enough time to switch rooms, so she had decided she might as well use it. She thought it wouldn't make a difference. She looks at the two beds, identical, spaced neatly in the room. She imagines her children ducking back and forth, exclaiming over the view of the balcony or checking out the television channels.

She imagines Peter, complaining about the size of the room.

She sinks down on the bed and cries.

* * *

In the morning she feels better. A good night's sleep followed by a wonderful hour lazing in bed has put her in a good mood. The dining room is quiet – it's late May which is just before the busy holiday season – and after piling a plate with fruit she heads outside to the tables, on the porch with a perfect view of the beach.

A couple is having breakfast a little further down, but Alicia sits beside a man buried behind a newspaper, unlikely to make chit-chat. She gazes thoughtfully to the beach, popping a grape into her mouth. She could go to the beach or to the pool, though the pool is likely to be quieter. People from other hotels can go on the beach; only the people from the hotel can use the pool. It's meant to be cool in Spain this time of year, but it's only nine and it's already boiling. She bought a kindle and has filled it with books, ready to do plenty of reading.

She glances down the porch just as the man on the neighbouring table lowers his newspaper.

She is stunned. And by his face, so is he.

"Alicia?"

"Will?"

She can't comprehend this. "What are you doing?"

"Erm, reading?"

"No! What are you doing _here_?"

"I booked a week off. I thought this would be the best time to do it." He stares at her, his plate of bacon lying forgotten. "So..."

"This is odd," Alicia finishes.

"Really odd."

He folds the paper. "What do we do?"

Alicia doesn't know. She really doesn't. Of all the places to have come on holiday, of all the times of the year, she chooses the same as Will? It would be awkward enough to meet your boss on holiday. Meeting your boss who you once dated (in secret) and broke up with (in secret) and still kinda, sorta have feelings for (which is TOP secret) is off the scale in awkwardness.

"I guess we just act normal," she says after a moment. "Do what we would if we were alone."

Will looks uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. "Yeah okay." After a few hesitant moments he gets up and mutters a goodbye before hurrying away. Alicia looks after him before shaking her head, an incredulous smile on her face. _This could only happen to me. Only to me and Will._

An hour later she arrives by the pool, casually wearing her swimming costume that hides the creases on her stomach and weight leftover from two pregnancies. Just because it was the one she found first.

She is the only one by the square pool. Feeling self-conscious, she begins to read. After half an hour, while she was deep into the secrets of the Borgia family (she likes to think of it as a testament to Stern) when she hears a splash. She can spot Will underneath the water, gliding through the liquid like a fish. His things are on the opposite side of the pool. He swims lengths, back and forth, in a transparent attempt to impress her. She studiously ignores him, but she can feel the playfulness of when they had their affair returning. She remembers what it was like to share a smile; to argue in front of him, going the extra mile because she knew he was watching, because it turned him on.

They play the game of ignoring each other, both avoiding eyes.

After another half hour of this she hears him climb out the pool. He picks up his towel and dries his body, his back to her. Her eyes linger over him until he cautiously glances behind him, to her. She ducks her head, reading furiously.

A few minutes later she glances up, massaging a "pain" in her neck. She could feel Will eyeing over at her, but when she looks in his direction he drops his eyes to his own book. A minute later he glances back up, and it's her turn to duck. They share of furious dance, looking and avoiding each other.

Then for one moment their eyes make contact with each other. Instead of looking away this time they hold their gazes. They smile.

At that point it's inevitable.

* * *

On the second day she is back by the pool, trying to ignore the fact that she's waiting for Will. She's especially trying to ignore that she would probably be having a terrible time if it wasn't for the fact Will was here.

"Hey. She glances up in surprise to see Will, dripping wet, approaching her.

She can't stop a smile. "Hi. Where've you been?"

"In the sea." There is something different about him here. His face is calmer; the lines around his eyes are relaxed. He seems lighter somehow. He sits beside her and grabs the towel from underneath her and uses it to dry himself.

"Hey!" Laughing she tries to grab hold of it. He moves away from her, a teasing smile on his face. At one point she is almost splayed over him and his fingers are over her skin, tickling her. It's not about the towel anymore – but then, it never was. They're both laughing so much that they are doubling over because of the pain in their stomachs.

"My towel's all wet," she whines, still smiling.

His own grin is crooked – her favourite smile of his. Just like the way he smiled in college. Suddenly she is young again, filled with confidence in her beauty and knowledge, in the belief that the bad guys get put away and the good guys walk free. "You're dry," he says back, "what does it matter?"

She pouts playfully, lowering her eyes. "What if I get wet?"

His eyes look over the pool. "I don't know." When he looks back at her there is another smile on his face. "Let's find out."

Before she can think he grabs her, lifting her high in the air and carrying her towards the pool. Her head is leaning back and her arms are flailing helplessly at her side. She watches the water move closer towards her.

"No! Will, no, don't you dare-"

"I don't think that's the way to convince me." He is looking down at her. If she brought her head up, their noses would touch...

"What will?" Suddenly this game is more exciting. Those hands of his are on her skin, on her back and her arm. She is very aware of them.

"Say I rule," he instructs. When he looks at her she has a burst of happiness inside her. She hasn't seen him look this playful, this youthful, since college. But there is a certain nervousness in his eyes as well, as if he's unsure where this will go.

She meets his gaze. "Fine," she says. "You rule." She enjoys the moment of bemusement on his face before she adds, "In your own head."

He grins and without a hesitation steps into the pool. Her cry of protest is swallowed by the water as it surrounds them. It's a blur of blue and Alicia reaches to the surface, gasping for air. She stands and finds herself leaning against Will.

"You ass," she splutters. His arm comes round her to keep her up, while he is unaffected.

"What?" he asks. "Is that the best you can do?"

She meets his gaze. "Fuck you," she whispers. The words are like gum on her tongue, finally wedging free.

He stares. She wonders if he's mad, though she can't understand why he would be. But then he smiles, his teeth reflecting in the shiny surface of the water. "That's more like it."

* * *

They give up the pretence of acting normal (as if they ever tried). The next day they sit on sun loungers pressed beside each other, with such a little gap between them that it's almost nonexistence. They talk but usually read. It's quiet, but not awkward. It's comfortable. Alicia always wondered what they would be like together if they weren't keeping it a secret, rushing off to a meeting or a dinner a something. She didn't expect they would be so blissfully relaxed with each other. The only noise is the low buzz of other couples talking some distance away and the swallows and swifts flirting in the sky above them.

She doesn't notice until she stops her eyelids from drooping that she's been resting her head against his shoulder. She can feel the dampness of the water from his skin, smell the sun cream plastered over his body. With a jolt she sits up, her neck protesting in the sharp movement.

"What?" Will is staring at her.

Alicia looks across the pool, to the few couples that are lounging in the area. She doesn't need to say anything. For the past two and a half years they have communicated through eyes and ambiguous compliments; they are fluent in the unspoken language.

"No one's watching." Will lifts his arm in the air, waving it over his head. None of the couples so much as glance in his direction. "We're not in Chicago anymore Alicia. You don't have people waiting for a scandal." He tilts his head and snatches a quick kiss on her cheek. "See," he says, grinning. "No one cares."

She keeps her eyes on him for a few moments. He's right. It feels strange, not having every word analysed by people. For the first time since college she's free. _Free_. To do and say what she wants without worry.

Will is somehow her ticket to freedom.

Carefully she places her cheek on his shoulder. Her hand gradually moves across his bare chest. She notices how his breathing has halted. She smiles. She never knew how much she would enjoy having the power to make a man remember how to breathe.

"I wouldn't say no one cares."

His mouth smoothes into a soft smile – her favourite smile of his. He reminds her of a wolf that has finally stopped snarling. His fingers skim her hair, tucking it neatly behind her ear. "That's good to know."

* * *

Nothing happens until that evening. They decide to go to a restaurant on the beach. She puts on a white and pink dress decorated with flowers, with matching pink shoes. She worries that she's dressed too fancy, but when Will shows up in a suit she knows she made the right choice.

The waiter appears. "Hola," he greets. His smile holds the sweetness of youth and all the tact of one. When he announces that its half price for couples tonight he says, "Are you two married?"

Will is startled. He stutters, ready to deny the comment. Alicia grabs his hand, intertwining her fingers with his. "Yes," she answers, and with that word she freezes Will's.

He beams and says something complimentary about them in Spanish. "You two look good," he translates. He grabs two menus. "Do you have a reservation Mr and Mrs...?"

"Gardner," Alicia corrects with a smile. "Mr and Mrs Gardner." The name slips over her like a dress saved in the wardrobe for a special occasion that never seemed to appear.

Will is looking at her. His eyes are veiled so she can't tell whether he's pleased or not. She makes a move to let go, but to her everlasting surprise he clings on. He takes the lead and follows the waiter to their table. His hand is on hers the entire time.

* * *

"Do you miss it?"

"The law?"

"Yes. Do you miss practising?"

"Sometimes. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy being able to go on holiday without having to worry about clients. I haven't had a call from work ever since I arrived."

"Neither have I."

"Really?"

"Really – but I haven't turned it on."

"Did you miss it? The law?"

"No...but I had two kids to raise. Believe me, the law is a piece of cake compared to kids. But now I miss it. I would miss it if I was in your shoes."

"You would?"

She raises her eyes from across the table. They are once again eyeing each other, unsure of what their words will mean. "I would miss you."

"You would?" His throat feels very dry. As much as he tries to ignore it, he has few people that would notice if he died. His sisters of course. Diane. A few close friends. But not a huge amount.

It's nice to have the assurance that Alicia would.

Her dark eyes are solemn. Underneath the table she takes her foot and rubs it against his. "I would."

* * *

He kisses her. She kisses him. Their tongues fight a war. They have always been good at this. With all their emotional baggage, their sex should have been shit. But it's not. It never has been. Not _only _do they have all the drama of a romantic movie, they have the heat of one too.

When they're finished they lie in bed together, enjoying each other's presence. Will's arm pulls her body close to his, unable to not be touching her. She shivers as his arm makes contact with her skin. His nose buries itself in her neck. "I've missed you," he says into her skin, as if he wants to tattoo the words on her.

She smiles. The moon lights up the room, perhaps even brighter than sunlight. "I've missed you too."

* * *

It's not like before. Now they don't have to pretend; they can actually _be _together. They walk down to breakfast, their shoulders skimming each other's. They lick honey off the other's fingers and feed each other food. People smile at them, assuming they are newlyweds. They don't correct them.

They walk down the beach together, holding hands. He swings it up and down, as if they're children. She twirls like they're dancing, landing into his arms. The waves hit the back of their legs, but the coldness of the sea doesn't deter them.

"Happy?" she asks.

He laughs. It comes from his stomach, not his throat. "I am. This...it's nice."

"Nice?"

He throws his head back. "It's good," he says. "Better than good. It's...what I always wanted."

How can she answer that? She's not even sure what she wants. Sometimes she wishes she didn't have the choice, that the decision could be made for her. Maybe she knew what she wanted once upon a time, but now?

He smiles, as if she can read her mind. "It's fine," he says. "Let's not put labels on this." She opens her mouth to say God knows what, but he pulls her along. "C'mon. We'll be late for our reservations."

* * *

They spend days in the room. They wake up, have sex, have breakfast, and they come back to the room. Maybe they'll have sex but that's not the point. They sit out on the balcony, reading again. Talking. Laughing. They don't feel the need to rush anywhere. That's the point of a holiday – being able to unwind. She puts her head on his lap when she's tired, and he plays with her hair.

One night she wakes up to find his side of the bed empty. Sitting up she sees his profile leaning against the doorframe of the kids' room. "Will?"

He turns. "Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, just hot. Are you okay?" His face has a weird look on it.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

He pauses. "I was just thinking what it would be like if we – if we had gotten married."

She tries to push away the thoughts of her husband that isn't quite her ex, and her kids that haven't quite grown up. "You think about that sort of thing?"

He moves back on the bed. "Forget it."

He pulls her close, but with a hand she keeps him at bay. "No," she says, her voice a combination between gentle and stern. He smiles despite everything; she is _such _a politician's wife. "Tell me. You think about us getting married?"

"Sometimes," he admits.

"Where?"

He gives in. "In Georgetown," he says, and she smiles. It's perfect. "Then we would find a house somewhere."

"Highland Park?"

"Not Highland Park," he says decidedly. "Somewhere quiet though. Nice neighbourhood, somewhere for the kids to play."

She snuggles into her pillow, facing him. "How many kids were we going to have?"

"Four."

"_Four_?"

"Four."

She shakes her head at him, a smile teasing her face. "You're presumptuous."

He returns a smile and continues. "A set of twins first: a boy and a girl. Then another boy a few years later, and then another girl." He reaches over, strokes her stomach, as if he's already picturing her belly filled with all these children. "The twins would look more like me – my hair colour, my eyes. But our youngest, the girl – she'd be all you. She'd have your dark hair and eyes, and she would drive me crazy because I'd try to get her to laugh when I'd screw up and she'd just stare at me like you do."

She smiles but her throat is tight. "Names?"

"The youngest would be Rose. The youngest is always a girl, and she's always Rose. Our oldest son would be Matthew, and our oldest daughter we would call Thea. And I'm torn between Stephen or Robin for our youngest son. Nothing after our parents. I don't know about you but I really don't want – Alicia?" He raises his head, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

She wipes the tears from her eyes. _Damn_. She hoped it wouldn't be noticed in the dark. "Would we work?" she asks.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay at home. It would be your choice. I probably wouldn't be partner though."

"You wouldn't?"

"Not if we had kids. It takes up too much time. I don't want to be my father; I want to spend time with my children. I had money while I was growing up, but I would have rather had my father." He leans close to her. "We would take them all over the country, all over the world – Italy, Paris, India." His voice is in her ear. "They would be sports fans of course."

She can't help little laugh then. "Of course."

"I'd take them to basketball games – let them play soccer-"

"What about the girls?"

"Who says they couldn't play too?"

"We wouldn't force them though."

"Of course not," he says. "We would give them everything they needed, everything we didn't have. And make sure they _never _became lawyers. Do something less stressful, like an air traffic pilot or a stunt double."

Alicia can't stop the tears. It sounds so good. Their lives, their children. She can almost see it: a son that looks like Will when he was younger, chatting up a girl; their daughter running for her daddy; watching them tumble on the bed while Will groans and throws his pillow over his head; picking out clothes with their children; cheering a soccer games.

Dancing in the garden during their twentieth wedding anniversary, with Will's arm secured round her back while watching their children. No cameras, no journalists, no Florrick name hanging over her head. A happy, simple marriage.

She doesn't regret her kids or her marriage to Peter. But who among us doesn't yearn for the path that wasn't chosen? And Will... Their children... It all sounds like... Like she would have enjoyed living it.

"You're right." Will seems to sense that he's opened a door to something. "We probably wouldn't have lasted a week if we were dating. If we got married it wouldn't last a month."

"We would have killed each other," she agrees. _You wouldn't,_ another voice says defiantly in her head. _You would have been happy. _

"Hold me," she says. Will complies, pulling her close to him. She closes her eyes, trying to forget about that large house and those four kids.

She tries.

* * *

The night before Alicia is due to return home they can't sleep. The clock is ticking and neither of them is willing to lose a second. As the sun rises neither of them move. They have been kissing, having sex, and talking alternatively through the night. Now they are silent.

"Looking forward to being at home?" Will's tone is determinedly light.

"Yes." She's thinking of her kids, of Kalinda, of Cary and Diane. But she could give or take everything else. Maybe even Peter. "You?"

"A little." He rolls over. They are facing opposite each other. "This last day is going to be weird without you being here."

"Will, I-" Suddenly she's crying. He takes her in his arms. "I don't know what's happening, I just – this week-"

"It's been paradise." His tone is firm. "I wouldn't have traded this week for another decade."

"When we get back-"

"I know." He turns away from her, watching the sun stretch further into the sky. "We act like nothing ever happened."

She sniffs, wiping her eyes. "Things are harder in Chicago. If we were there, I'm not sure it would work, going public."

"It wouldn't," he replies softly. He bends down, kissing her. He takes this opportunity to smell her hair. Soon enough this will only be a memory. "I'm always here Alicia. Remember that."

When she's about to leave for the airport, they kiss. Will pours everything – his heartache, his adoration – into it. Alicia responds. If this was a fairytale, this is the kiss would last forever.

But it isn't a fairytale, and it doesn't.

She climbs into the taxi and watches him fade away from her, a dream dying.

"Mrs Gardner," the taxi driver says in a worrying tone, "why are you crying?"

* * *

"I'm pregnant."

A comet could have hit the office and Will couldn't have been more shocked. "What?" he says. His voice is a rasp, like sandpaper. He needs water. He sits back and focuses on breathing. He needs _not _to have a heart attack.

"I'm pregnant." She can't believe she is saying this. She's over forty. She didn't think she could even _get _pregnant.

He leans back in his seat. "Are you – are you that it was – that when we had sex-"

"It's ours." She stands a little straighter. "It can't be anyone else's."

Will looks as if he's been hit by lightning. Alicia worries for a moment that he'll have a stroke. Suddenly he leaps out of his seat. "Sit down."

"Will, I'm fine-"

"Alicia, I insist." His voice becomes boss-like and so she takes a seat on his sofa. She hates to admit it, but she feels better. Her back is sore as if she's already carrying more weight, and her feet have been killing her.

He begins to pace up and down before he abruptly whirls round. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Will gives her a knowing look and she breaks. "I'm a little queasy, and last week I cried over a bad deposition." She sends a little smile his way. "Cary looked terrified."

"I'll bet." He still looks pale.

She reaches for him. "Sit down Will."

He collapses on the chair beside her. "What – how long have you known?"

"Only a day. I thought – I thought it was flu or maybe even cancer. I didn't even consider pregnancy."

Suddenly he knows when it happened. It was the last time they had sex before she left for the airport. It was sex tinged with sadness and longing, something that sex should never be, and he remembers wishing that something would happen, something to keep her from leaving.

God can be such a bastard.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. A second later he jumps up and closes the curtains, which she appreciates. The last thing she wants is Diane peeking through the glass. Once they're safe he goes to her. The formality of the employee-boss relationship weighs down on them and he can only bring himself to take her hand. "What do you want to do?"

"What do _you _want to do?"

He snorts. "Honestly, I can't even think straight at this point. I – I'm not going to lie, I'm scared shitless. I mean, we have a lot of baggage-"

"_I _have a lot of baggage."

"So do I Alicia. Believe me. And-"

"There's Peter, and my kids. And the press will have a _field _day-"

"Plus Diane and everyone here," adds Will. "Eli will have kittens."

Alicia groans at the thought.

"Alicia, it's your choice. You have way more to lose than I do. If you don't want this..." He struggles with his choice of words. "...baby, then I'll support the decision."

She nods. It's what she expected him to say. "But if I did?" The words burst out of her, as much as she's tried to hold them back. "If I keep the baby? You would support the decision?"

For once, he doesn't pause. "Yes."

She blinks. "R-really?"

"Yeah, really. This would be my child Alicia. If you wanted this baby then I would pay child support, I would let you scream and cry at me, I'd be there in the delivery room. I'll – I'd babysit, or have him over for a few days – longer. I – I would do whatever you wanted me to do."

Her face is blank and indifferent, listening like a lawyer. She's been nodding while he's spoken, but her eyes seem glazed as if she's not really listening. "Okay," she says when he's finished. "Let's do it."

He stares. "Really?"

"I like that proposal," she says. "I've decided to take it." She smiles and that's when she cracks. "There are so many..." Her voice breaks and she struggles. Quickly Will takes her hand and moves her closer to him. "So many people that – that are rooting for us to fail, and I-" She takes a deep breath. "I want to prove them wrong. But it's not just that." Will allows her to wipe her eyes before she continues. "I want everything that you said – _before_, on holiday. I know we can't have the life that you planned-" She almost doesn't finish, but the thought of those four kids, smiling up at her with bright eyes, steadies her. "But if we could get close to that...

"I made the wrong choice last time, with Peter. I don't know whether this is the right choice, but making the decision to be with Peter didn't feel as good as this."

He pushes her hair off her face and looks into the eyes of the girl he has loved ever since Georgetown. "So we're keeping the baby?"

"We're keeping the baby," she confirms.

Any doubt over her decision vanishes when she watches the look of relief flood across his face. He presses his forehead against hers, eyes closed. "Thank you," he whispers. And then he bends down and presses his lips against her stomach. "Thank you." She's not sure whether that second one is to the baby or to her, but it has her in a fresh bout of tears.

"It's going to be hard," she reminds him. "Telling Peter, Eli, Diane, the kids – it's not an easy path we're taking."

He smiles, one that reaches his eyes – her favourite smile of his. It lights up his entire face. "We'll do it together. I'm with you all the way."

_Together. _That's a good word. "Together," she agrees, and sinks back in the sofa, for once content to take a back seat and let someone else drive.

But then, this is Will. He's always the exception.

* * *

**Hours to make. Seconds to comment. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! **


End file.
